


The First Step

by temporalDecay



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalDecay/pseuds/temporalDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were not prepared for this. You were never prepared for any of this. But you knew that the moment you saw him and decided to keep him safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Step

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollyjollyturnabout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyjollyturnabout/gifts).



For this perigee, you’ve chosen a nice, spacious cavern deep in a lilac forest that has, to the best of your knowledge, remained unnoticed by the capital of the province. At least, considering the fact the tall, sturdy logs remain upright and you’ve yet to fail one of your daily hunts. You've learned to travel as lightly as you can, but you’ve still managed to decorate the cavern, nonetheless, some drapes in familiar, comforting jade, and a pile of trinkets and colorful stones to keep your grub occupied. Truth be told, he’s long outgrown the need for such entertainments, strictly speaking, but there’s something comforting about the way you try and recreate your home in every place you stay, and so long as he doesn’t ask you to stop, you’ll keep on doing it. 

When you return, dragging along a nicely sized carcass that will keep you both fed for a few days, you find your boy rolling his stones between his fingers, over and over again, brow furrowed in concentration. The pebbles were originally small glass beads made of desert sand melted by the sun that you picked up as you ran away with him, long before he even molted properly. But he’s always been fascinated by the colors and later on, when you went into mines and caves and forests and jungles, you took the time to pick up anything bright and colorful that he might like. As a private joke you never share with him, you reckon if he’d had a lusus, it would have been one of those smart little birds that steals everything that is not nailed down. 

But then, if he’d had a lusus, he wouldn’t need you and you wouldn’t love him, and the chain of miserable what-ifs reminds you why you seldom share your jokes with him. He’s a sensitive soul, your boy, always half-dreaming, half-remembering those dreams, and the ways of the world are entirely too harsh and would surely try their best to break someone like him. If he had a lusus, he wouldn’t be as soft as you’ve made him, but you can’t help but loving him with that mad, furious intensity that burst into being when you first saw him on the ground, chirping desperately for someone to care. 

“I had the dream again,” he says, not looking at you as he carefully arrays his rocks and pebbles and misshapen marbles on the ground, grouping the colors along the spectrum. “It keeps getting more vivid.” 

You unload your burden with a quiet sigh. He’s been restless, as of late. You wanted, above all else, to blame it on his age. He is not far away from his adult molt – and the gaping fear opens in your soul, because what will be your excuse to stay by his side after he no longer needs a lusus? – and you reckon unrest and nervousness are natural and part of the process. But his dreams torment him, as of late, and your presence alone is no longer enough to chase the dayterrors away. The more you look at him, the more you know he will leave you soon, and the more the knowledge digs in, the harder your heart breaks. He is your grub, but you’re not a lusus. You don’t know how to let go gracefully, when the time comes. 

“We’ve been diluting the sopor too much, perhaps,” you say, after a while, coming to sit next to him. “I’ll try and get us a new batch soon enough.” 

“Only…” he begins, and then stops, frowning at his hands so he doesn’t have to look at you in the eye. 

You don’t tell him you’re willing to hear anything he has to say. You don’t ask him to make himself clear. You just sit next to him, and wait. If he wants to tell you, he will. If he doesn’t… well, he’s bound to leave you, one day, he’s bound to thirst for freedom, and you need to learn how to keep your distance now, to mitigate the anguish that is sure to loom above you. 

“Only… something happened,” he says, finally, looking up at you with grey eyes full of flecks of red, “in the dream. I don’t think… that was just a dream.” When you tilt your head to the side, invitingly, he swallows hard. “You were there. Only you were young, and your hair was long, and there were these… marks on your skin, your arms and your shoulders down all the way to your ankles. It was weird because I wasn’t just… seeing, I was _remembering_.“ 

You’ve instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers digging into your elbows. When you were young and arrogant and considered yourself beautiful, there were indeed marks on your skin, from your neck down to your toes. And your hair was long and meticulously groomed, like a physical monument of reckless pride. 

But then you arrived at the caverns, that fateful dim season, when your lusus died. And then you were a jadeblood, formally and officially, and jadebloods have no use for vanity or pride. And so gone was your hair, childish tantrum of your youth, and the sinuous tattoos carved out of your skin. You’ve never told him of that, of your past and where you come from, because you are his lusus and that shouldn’t matter. One day, he’s going to leave you and you will let him, because you love him too much to deny him. 

“And then the dream changed, or I remembered something else, I’m still not sure.” He takes a deep breath and looks at the small pond further into the cave. “But when I woke up, I _remembered_. I don’t know why I tried… maybe I was half asleep myself, but…” 

He drops his toys back onto the ground and stands up resolutely. You watch him go, about to ask him what he’s planning, when you notice he’s not stopping, as he storms into the pond. 

Only he’s not… walking through the pond. 

He’s walking on it. 

As if it were solid ground. 

He turns around slowly, looking at you with equal amounts fear and hope, and you feel your eyes grow moist as you try and fail to smile back at him. 

“I think my dreams might be true,” he says, in that innocent, bewildered tone of his that makes you want to wrap yourself around him and hide him from all harm. “I don’t really understand them, myself… and I'm not sure I'm not going insane? I don’t think I am, but at the same time…” 

You realize you’re standing and then step forward, to meet him halfway as he returns from the pond after his little demonstration. You open your arms wide and welcome him into them without hesitation. His hug is more desperate than you’d expect, but then you realize it’s because you’re holding him as hard as he’s holding you. 

“It’s okay,” you promise, even though you don’t know it will be, because he’s still your grub and you’re still his lusus, and no matter what, that certainty holds you in place. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” 

“The dreams are getting worse,” he insists, pulling back just enough to look at you with wide, searching eyes. You are his light in the storm, the only guidance he’s ever known. You’ve never felt so wholly inadequate, before. “It feels like they’re building up to _something_ , like I should be _doing_ something.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” you promise again, running a hand down his face and smiling with certainty you don’t feel. You weren’t prepared for this. You were never prepared for any of this. But that doesn’t mean you’re not going to try and do it right. “Everything will be alright.” 

Somewhere in the depths of your soul, you know it won’t be. You’ve known it since you wrapped your arms around him and decided to keep him safe. 

But you will be damned, if you don’t try your best. 

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Signless walking on water is amazing. It was fun exploring Dolorosa's feelings in this one.


End file.
